


Legend Rising

by EclipseBorn



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: AU, F/M, Female Character of Color, Long, Multi, Remix, Romance, Slow Burn, but only slightly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:09:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22839091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclipseBorn/pseuds/EclipseBorn
Summary: A long time ago, David Anderson almost became a Spectre.Keyword 'almost'.Decades later, the opportunity has arisen for his daughter - Natalie Shepard - to join the very same ranks that he was once denied of. The only problem is, of course, that his darling daughter - known throughout the Milky Way as the Butcher of Torfan - wants nothing to do with the Alliance.When David and Shepard reunite, she's led to the rank no human alive or dead have ever achieved before; with a catch. With terrifying visions of the end of the world plaguing her mind, a failed past relationship sitting in the pilot's seat, and a dewy-eyed Lieutenant making her recheck the regulations handbook, Shepard has to balance her fledgling alliance between the different races of the galaxy and her loyalty to humanity.(This is a retelling of the games. Same events still happen (usually), just retold and refitted. Please read & review and, most importantly, enjoy yourself!)
Relationships: Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Afterlife – the club, not the metaphysical place – was a hive of scum and villainy. It was built in three tiers, located at the very heart of Omega; and also, at its metaphorical doorstep. When visiting, when landing, every elevator and elongated ladder would lead you to Afterlife, where you could find contacts for whatever you needed. From there, you could travel into the nearby districts, to find mercenaries and warehouses and enough drugs to fuel a freighter full of krogan.

On Omega, Afterlife wasn’t special. For every planet that orbited Sahrabarik, with Omega being a tiny dot in an asteroid field, Afterlife wasn’t special. For the whole of the Terminus Systems, Afterlife was par for the course. It was only when you left the boundaries of civilised, Citadel space that Afterlife became the norm.

For a man such as Captain David Edward Anderson, it was a breath of stale air. Citadel space preferred high-end lounges and casinos, jazz bands and tiny glasses that did nothing more than cleanse your palate. He didn’t mind the jazz, but he was a simple man, with simple needs, and it wasn’t just Afterlife’s proclivity of the illegal that made it so appealing.

In reference back to Afterlife’s three tiers, he now found himself on the middle layer; otherwise known as the main entrance. From there, he could see a large pillar with holo-screens broadcast along its surface, displaying dancers in little-to-no clothing or advertisements that ranged from alcohol to teams of deadly mercenaries that came at discount prices. Around the pillar was a raised platform with poles that ran to the ceiling, with live dancers swirling around them, and then on the floor was a circular dancefloor that lit up beneath his feet; this was swarming with a mass of writhing bodies, and not everyone was content to ‘just’ dance. The floor itself was made of glass, and through its panes, David could see Afterlife’s bottom tier. It was quieter, cosier, with private, secluded booths.

It was also, coincidentally, David’s destination.

Before then, he had to venture to Afterlife’s somewhat hidden away third tier; largely formed by balconies that hung over the dancefloor and the bar and the booths that held rowdy groups of kids. The largest of the balconies was at the far end of the room, with tall windows that allowed whoever was inside to look out on the rest of the club. He had, on a rare few occasions in his youth, made the journey before. That wasn’t enough to ease his nerves.

David expected to be stopped on his journey upwards, but no one came to collect him, and this he understood to be the closest form of a welcome that Afterlife had. There were guards at the top, armoured ones with more guns than sense, all of whom kept their eyes on him as he made those final steps to the seating area. A plush leather couch ran the length of the booth, occupied by one sole asari.

Aria T’Loak ran Afterlife and Omega, too. Some called her the Pirate Queen of the Terminus Systems. David was too old and too jaded to ever believe that one person – no matter how strong she might be – could rule over so many. It was one thing to say Aria ruled the outcasts of Thessia, another thing entirely to say she had a hand in guiding the refuse of every other galactic superpower.

Her name had always been bigger than the woman herself and, now, David could see that truth for himself. Aria leaned back on the couch, arms spread out, wholly at ease. There was a shotgun laying on the couch next to her, no doubt more shoved in hidden places throughout the booth. Before he did anything else, David took his own concealed firearm out from the holster beneath his jacket and placed it on the ground. Then, one of her guards – a batarian with one of his four eyes gouged out – let his omni-tool do a head-to-toe scan of David’s body. After a few tense moments, the scan beeped all clear and everyone felt relieved.

“It’s been some time,” Aria noted.

“I’m not here to exchange pleasantries,” David said.

Aria hummed. “Of course not. And why should I play nice?”

“I never said nice,” David corrected. “I just want a meeting. I know she’s working for you – I’m not trying to change that.”

“Like hell!” Aria snorted, tossing her head back. “You really think anyone in this room believes that? You think she will either? You’re here for something. You’re always here for something.”

David sighed, counting to himself until the annoyance melted away. He wasn’t here to argue or bicker. “You’re right. I am here for something – or someone. She’s my daughter. You have to understand that, as her father, I have to try.”

He made no foolish attempts at appealing to Aria’s softer side – which was, in truth, just a smaller knife to be pressed against his neck. Still, he knew that Aria’s life had been too long to properly count and that she understood everyone and everything, on some level. The Alliance could never properly ally with someone so hellbent on destruction, but a father searching for his daughter might.

“She’s in one of the lower booths,” Aria eventually relented, with information David already knew. “Alone. Usually the door is locked for staff only, but I’ll give you access. If you need her apartment, I’ll have the address sent over, too.”

“You gave that up easily enough,” he said.

Aria rolled her eyes. “Your daughter is a force of nature, but so am I. She’s getting too comfortable here, and I don’t like it. We wouldn’t lose anything if she was to remember her calling in life. I will admit to some curiosity, though – is this for the Spectre candidacy?”

“Should I even bother asking how you know about that?” asked David, tiredly.

“Should you?”

“I appreciate the help,” David instead said. “And for the favour that you will, no doubt, one day cash-in.”

He left without further goodbye, stopping only for his gun, knowing that Aria’s eyes would continue to stalk him as he moved through the swarms of people on the dancefloor. The bottom layer had more room, and actual seats at the bar, though the smell wasn’t any more pleasant and there were even more stripper poles. His daughter’s booth was at the far side, as removed as one could go without actually leaving the premises. He stood outside the door, listening through the beats of the inane dance music playing in the background, trying to hear if she was alone. Nothing stood out.

And then, naturally, there came the time to actually enter. David brought his hand up on the door’s lock and left it there, hovering above the surface until a fine shake made itself known. How long had it been, since they’d last been in a room together? Though he didn’t know the exact answer, he did realise that it had been longer still since they’d been in a conversation that hadn’t devolved into an argument.

Regardless of it all, he reasoned, she was still his child. They would work through it. Had to.

David's hand came down upon the lock and the door slid open in a smooth motion. The room inside was dark, lights turned down as far as they could go. Her figure was easily found, however, lit as it was by the glow of her biotics as they came to life. In her free hand, there was a pistol pointed at his heart.

Once she saw that it was him, the gun did not lower.

“She let you in?” was her first question. “God. I’ll kill her.”

“Natalie,” David said, filling her name with as much feeling as any good father had for their child.

“Do not,” Natalie said, thrusting her gun forwards. Her biotics pulsed with the gesture, growing ever stronger. “Get out of here, now.”

“We need to talk,” he continued.

“I don’t think so.”

David sighed, shoulders drooping, and that was enough to send her off, eyes flashing blue as invisible forces seized his arms. “Nat-“

“Leave!” she ordered, and his feet lifted, a blue shimmer about his body as he rose into the air. Natalie stood, gun still held firm, unwavering in her grip as she tracked his upwards movement. “I don’t want you here!”

“Please.”

It took a beat too long for his breath to return. David dropped to the ground, hand on the wall for support, taking uneasy gasps of air. He didn’t lift his gaze of Natalie, though there was some relief to see that the gun had been lowered.

“I…”

A moment longer, and the gun was on the table and she was crossing the room to – not quite hug him. She led him to the couch, pushed a glass of water into his hands, then leaned against the opposite wall, her gaze focused on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he led, after a few hasty gulps of water.

Natalie snorted. “That’s my line. I just tried to kill you.”

“You wouldn’t have –“

“I really don’t think you know that for certain,” she warned, though her tone was still light. Then, her head dropped even further, making it impossible to even make out a glimpse of her eyes. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to… Lift you up. It’s – harder to control it when I’m emotional.”

“I know,” David said. “This place won’t be helping that.”

“I’m aware.”

“But you still stay here?”

Her eyes shot up to his, full of so much fury it hurt to witness it. “And what’s the alternative? I only hurt people who deserve it here. For you –“

“Do I deserve it?” David asked. “Do I? I failed you that badly?”

“No, I-“

“But that’s what you just said,” he pointed out. “You only hurt those that deserve it, so I deserved it.”

“I also just said that it’s harder to control nowadays,” Natalie forced out, pushing herself off the wall to tower over him.

“So, you’re hurting people accidentally?” He shook his head. “I raised you better.”

“And then the Alliance wasted it,” Natalie said, sharp with it. She sat opposite him, drinking from a transparent glass of what certainly wasn’t water. Her hand shook with it, a faint thrum of blue over her dark skin.

“Are you on red sand?” David asked, as gently as he could manage. “We can help if you are.”

“Do I look like I’m on red sand?” Natalie shot back. “Is that what the Alliance think I’ve done? Ran off to Omega to get wasted on drugs and alcohol?”

“Isn’t it?” At his words, she fell silent. “Natalie, you know I won’t judge. I just want what’s best for you, as your father – and this? This isn’t it. The Alliance –“

“I know what the Alliance wants of me. I refuse. I – I refuse,” there was a quick gesture of wiping at her eyes, so that he wouldn’t see how they glistened in the dim lighting. He still did. “And no, I’m not on red sand. I barely drink. I’m still me. When have you ever known me to do either of those things?”

“When have I ever known you to go AWOL on Omega?” David said.

“I gave my notice in!” Natalie protested, coming to her feet again. “I fucking told Hackett that I quit.”

David shrugged. “You’re not officially discharged – you’ve been on leave for the last six months.”

“Why?”

“You’re a damn good marine. We want you back… I’m not… I’m not just here as a father, Natalie.”

“Of course not,” she muttered. “I never assumed otherwise. So, what’s it now? Who _exactly_ is it you want me to kill?”

“No one,” said David, feeling some pride at the surprise he read from her. “It’s a simple escort mission.”

“You wouldn’t call me back in for a _simple_ escort mission,” Natalie said, which was incredibly astute of her, since it was true. “What ship is it on?”

“The SSV Normandy SR-1.”

“The _SSV Normandy_ \- that’s not a ship. SR-1?” Her nose scrunched up, eyes pointed at the far wall. After a moment, she turned back, and he relished the knowing glint in her eyes, “It’s new? I haven’t heard a damn thing about a _new_ ship.”

“It’s top secret,” David admitted. “Can’t say any more than that. But it’ll be non-combat. And you’ll be working with a representative of the Council.”

“That means… Spectre?” Her nose scrunched up further. “An escort mission on a brand new ship with a _Spectre_?”

“It’s up to you,” David said, because it was. “I want you there. You’ll be a perfect fit, Nat.”

“Will I, now?” she sighed. “I - when I gave my notice in, Dad, I - I wasn’t joking around. I don’t want to fight any more. I haven’t been doing it even _here_. That’s why my biotics are… temperamental. So…”

“So?”

Natalie crossed the room to sit next to him, draining the last of her vodka as she went. Eventually, she stared at him, making sure that her words landed where she wanted to, “So, if I come with you, it’ll be my last mission. I’ll be officially discharged from the Alliance afterwards.”

David sucked in a short gasp of air. That, he knew, was something he couldn’t promise. If things went well, Natalie’s career would only continue to soar - as he knew it was capable of. She only needed to see it for herself.

It wouldn’t be the biggest lie he’d ever promised to her. Tooth Fairy. Father Christmas. Your mother loves you. Of course that zit isn’t noticeable. Torfan would be a good decision.

He gave a sigh. She would be brilliant. She _would_ be. Natalie was - was everything best of humanity. The best of him. And to see her flourish, he would need to take the necessary steps.

“You’ll be officially discharged,” he said, nodding. “I’ll hand the papers in myself.”

Natalie hadn’t given such a bright smile in years. It hurt to see it. “Thank you. I’ll - I’ll put my best effort into this mission, I swear. When are we leaving?”

He stood and she followed him to the door, out onto the club floor. David suddenly felt restless and in good need of a stiff drink, though he had never drank in front of Natalie, and certainly wasn’t going to start now.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he told her. “I flew here privately. Dock 204 - meet me there.”

“Thanks,” she said, somewhat awkwardly. “I’ll - get my stuff. Where will we be headed after that?”

David smiled. “That’s classified.”

It wasn’t. But she laughed and headed off into the night - or what passed as it, inside Omega’s hollowed out core. David watched his daughter go, thinking of what the next few days would bring - and the inevitable betrayal that would accompany it - and then crossed over to the bar.

One drink, and then he’d go, prepare to take flight, tell Hackett of what he’d done.

One drink, and then he’d go.


	2. Chapter 2

To say the Normandy was beautiful would be an understatement.

Anyone who had worked on her could admit to such a thing, and so too could her newfound crew. She glittered in the sunlight of Arcturus, blue shining off her steel. The brand-new insignia of the Alliance was proudly sat on her hull, _SR-1_ across her wings. Most warships could be called beautiful in the same way as any ship. Normany was special. Her beauty was not just in the design, but rather what she represented, for the joint minds of both humanity and turians. It promised that -

“I’m going to fucking die,” said Joker, over his morning coffee.

“Good morning,” Kaidan replied, not lifting his eyes from Normandy’s hull. “How much did _you_ drink last night?”

“Not enough,” Joker muttered. “Come on, come on, we need to get on-board before she arrives. Move.”

Kaidan refused to let Joker cajole him into moving. “Would you - stop! What the hell is up with you?”

His question caused Joker to still, knuckles white on his crutches. “What?”

“You’re eager this morning,” Kaidan said.

“So?”

“Because you’re never eager in the mornings, ever. There’s more chance of acid rain on this station than there is you being a _morning person_.” Kaidan shook his head. “You okay?”

Joker drank his coffee. It was much too hot, leaving him to mime being ‘fine’ whilst his tongue was burned. As the pain lingered, he lowered the coffee and said in a strained voice, “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” Joker admitted, in a hush. “But we really can’t talk about it here, so let’s _go_.”

This time, Kaidan willingly led the way across the gangway and allowed himself to be decontaminated whilst Joker nursed his coffee. It always took a little longer for Joker, because his crutches picked up dirt from the ground, but Kaidan kept himself entertained by observing Joker’s jittery elbows and the coffee he was studiously avoiding.

“ _Did_ you go drinking last night?” he asked, once they were inside and Joker was seating himself in the cockpit.

“I should’ve done,” Joker said, letting his head rest against the back of his chair. “You hear about who our new XO is?”

Kaidan blinked. “ _That’s_ what’s got you bummed out?”

“This is more than bummed out,” Joker gave a dramatic wave of his coffee. “This is a life-threatening danger that _you_ do not understand the seriousness of.”

“Commander Shepard is a normal woman, Joker. Those rumours of Torfan are mostly just hearsay,” Kaidan said, in hopes of reassuring his friend. It worked, he realised with a smile, as Joker’s shoulders loosened some and a bit of life returned to his eyes. “She isn’t going to gun you down as soon as she sees you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” came a new voice.

Joker’s face could have only dropped quicker if he’d been punched in it.

A nearly silent footfall on the deck beside Kaidan led his spine to tense; he knew instinctively who it was, without needing any verification. It wasn’t the voice that gave it away, as he’d never heard it before, and neither was it the ease in which she’d snuck up on them - _that_ was expected of any N7 worth their weight in eezo. He didn’t know what tipped him off. A gut response, perhaps, to Joker?

“Commander Shepard,” he greeted, accompanied by a salute. Joker followed, merely an inch out of synch, eyes focused on the brim of his travel mug.

Finally, Kaidan saw Shepard for himself and -

Oh.

 _Oh_.

He hadn’t seen her before, either. The Butcher of Torfan was newsworthy because of her actions, of the rumours of her depravity. Who she _was_ as a person had never been important - only her parentage, a few times. Kaidan had never seen the point in looking into it, never seen the point in caring. He knew better than to believe the media, knew better to trust the Alliance when the filed were sealed shut, and Torfan was grim business regardless of how it was viewed.

Kaidan knew who she _was_ , objectively speaking; Commander Shepard, Captains Anderson and Shepard’s daughter, Butcher of Torfan, his new XO. He’d recognised her as _that_ Shepard, but her face had still been lost to him - couldn’t place her in a room, only now he could, only now he definitely could, because Shepard was, well, she was -

To say Shepard was beautiful would be an understatement.

“Lieutenant Alenko,” Shepard said, though after a solitary glance she’d already moved onto, “Flight Lieutenant _Moreau_.”

“Commander,” Joker squeaked. Kaidan had never heard his voice go so high.

“How are you finding Normandy?” she asked, arms crossed. To an unobservant eye, one might mistake it for the polite inquiry of a superior officer. Kaidan was being incredibly observant.

“She’s… spaceworthy,” Joker said, like it was news. “Handles like a… dime.”

Kaidan frowned at him. Handles like a dime? What did that even _mean_? (Un)Luckily for them both, Shepard’s attention soon switched away, appraising Kaidan for longer than she had earlier. Her eyes were something else. Not just the colour, though that was striking too, and more the weight of her gaze itself. Kaidan felt judged, and he had no clue whatsoever of the verdict.

“An L2, yeah?”

 _Figures_. He disguised his sigh into a long breath and answered, “yes, ma’am, but I can assure-”

“I’ve seen your record, Alenko,” Shepard interrupted, “I’ve no doubts about your dedication. We can discuss more later, however. In better company.”

At that, she gave a sharp turn and stalked down the passageway, joining the gathering of brass near the CIC. No doubt where the Captain and Pressly were. Kaidan found that he wasn’t too focused on Shepard’s father. Instead, he considered how Shepard carried herself; lightly, yet with a determined stretch of her shoulders. She held herself in the same manner that he’d seen ballet dancers walk, though it was hard to imagine _her_ in a tutu and tights.

Not that he’d actually put it past her.

“Do you _know_ her?” he asked, once Shepard had vanished from view and Joker looked only marginally suicidal. “And how has this never come up?”

“It never needed to until Anderson decided to sign my death warrant,” Joker moaned, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s ridiculous! Unprofessional! Blatant nepotism.”

That had Kaidan frowning. “I don’t think the Captain -”

“Oh, he’s _not_ , I’m just -” Joker sighed, long and loud, lifting toward Kaidan. “She’s genuinely going to kill me.”

“She won’t,” Kaidan said, though he was less certain than before. She certainly _looked_ pissed. “Anyway, I should get to my station, so-”

“You can’t leave!” Joker protested, appalled. “She’ll eat me alive. Kaidan. Dude.”

“This _isn’t_ my station,” Kaidan pointed out.

“It’s the bro-code!”

“The bro-code does _not_ cover protecting you from XO’s who you’ve pissed off, Joker,” he said. “I’ve no reason to be here, and she’ll bust _both_ our asses if she finds out I’m playing nursemaid to you.”

Joker met Kaidan’s eye and realised that Kaidan would not budge from this - as was his right.. Then, without breaking their unblinking gaze, Joker lifted his travel mug into the air and unscrewed the cap. From there, he hovered it over the co-pilot’s screen and -

“Joker!” Kaidan cried, as delicious coffee was poured over the circuitry and the screen puttered out of existence. It was lucky the actual co-pilot hadn’t arrived yet; else her lap would be aflame.

“Oh, look,” said Joker, monotone. “A technical issue has arisen. Looks like you’ll have to fix it.”

“You’re an asshole.”

At this, Joker laughed. “You only just noticed? You’re a few years late on it.”

* * *

_“Arcturus Prime Relay is in range… initiating transmission sequence.”_

Joker’s voice echoed throughout the ship, leading everyone to stand taller because of it. It didn’t affect Shepard, because she refused to give him the privilege, but it did lead her to think she should join him on the bridge. She could never be accused of sentimentality, or superstition, but the first relay jump of a ship was a special thing to witness. Shepard had marked off a few as the years passed, but Normandy was unique in more ways than one. This would be the _last_ of the firsts. She could allow some sentimentality here.

 _“We are connected. Calculating transit mass and destination._ ”

Knowing him, Joker would manually do the calculations just to double check what the VI gave back - too paranoid to put all his trust into a computer. As Shepard approached up the gangway, she could see the silhouette of his chair against the large backdrop of space. Radar was how most pilots flew nowadays, but a window was always handy to make sure you didn’t crash into something.

But Joker wasn’t alone. There was Alenko, too, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat - a malfunction? Already? - and then standing behind them both was the bane of Shepard’s life thus far. A Spectre. A turian one, too, though that only seemed to be a concern for others.

To Shepard, the Spectre represented quite a few layers of lies. Officially, Spectre _Nihlus_ was only present as a representative of the Council - to see that their will was done. Unofficially, it was a load of bullshit and he was clearly present for other reasons. Normandy was a good ship, but there was no need for her to have a full crew on her _shakedown_ cruise.

None of it made sense, and all of it linked back to the turian standing only a few feet away, attention focused on the steadily approaching mass relay outside. Shepard silently joined him, mimicking his posture of straight shoulders and linked arms, and wondered when her father’s lies would expose themselves.

“The relay is hot,” Joker continued, seemingly unaware of the presence at his back. “Acquiring approach vector; all stations secure for transit. The board is green… the approach run has begun.”

Shepard braced herself, and she imagined everyone else did, too. Relay jumps weren’t instantaneous, though the Exodus System wasn’t too far from Arcturus itself - what would that be? Four or so minutes of travel?

“Hitting the relay in… three… two… one…”

The glowing eezo core of a mass relay was undeniably beautiful - and the sight of one in action was something that never grew old. As Shepard watched, a solid beam of energy coalesced around Normandy, a faint vibration beneath her feet that wasn’t there a moment ago. There they were, travelling in a column of mass effect fields - still alive. Still breathing.

“Your captain will be pleased that it was a smooth entry,” Nihlus commented, mostly to himself. He nodded to Shepard before leaving, smoothly striding his way back through the CIC as if he didn’t realise everyone was watching him go. Of course he knew. Shepard was intimately aware of the gazes on _her_ \- and she had the added privilege of humanity on her side. Nihlus was the lone turian aboard Normandy, something he no doubt felt keenly.

“ _‘Your captain will be pleased_ ’,” Joker repeated. “Asshole. I hate that guy.”

“Nihlus gave you a compliment, so you hate him?”

It was Alenko. An odd one, with over a dozen special commendations and no explanation on his part as to why he deserved them. Had been stationed on SSV Edinburgh for the last year - along with Joker. The two must’ve been friends, but Shepard had _clearly_ heard Alenko assuring Joker that she wasn’t the very same thing that Joker had spent the last two years convincing himself of. An L2.

An _L2_.

“Spectres are trouble,” Joker answered, with no hesitation. “He’s not here to have afternoon tea, he’s here because shit’s about to go down and the Council wants _us_ smack bang in the middle of it all - without asking us if that’s okay first! I don’t like having him on board, call me paranoid.”

“You’re paranoid,” Alenko called him. Joker shook his head, and Shepard witnessed a small gap into their normal relationship. “The Council helped create Normandy, they’ve a right to send someone to keep an eye on it.”

“Her,” Shepard corrected. The two fell silent. “And loathe as I am to admit it, Joker’s right. Nihlus being here means that something else is afoot.”

Joker leaned back in his chair to look at her. His willingness to do so was somewhat surprising. “You - shouldn’t _you_ know what’s going on, being the XO and all?”

“You’d think,” Shepard said, fixing her gaze on the blues out the viewport. “But no.”

“He’s your _dad_ ,” Joker said. “He never keeps things from you.”

“He’s still her CO,” Alenko suggested, softly, as though he didn’t want to interrupt their flow. Whatever had survived, anyway. “This, um, might be need-to-know information.”

Joker snorted. “Yeah, and Nat - I mean, the Commander’s always on the needs-to-know list.”

“Not always,” Shepard said. There were spots in her father’s history that no one knew about. Subjects that he’d always just skip over. This, she feared, was one of them - but she’d never been personally involved before. Not that she _knew_ of. This time, her father had personally asked her to return - and for what? A shakedown cruise that was anything but?

“What’d he actually tell you?” Joker asked.

Shepard huffed, rolling her eyes. “And I should tell you, _because_?”

“Because…” Joker’s voice came out low, and she didn’t have to look to know he was wringing his hands together. “It spoils the fun of the discussion if you, you know, willingly hold out?”

“The Commander doesn’t have to say anything she doesn’t want to,” said Alenko, which wasn’t news, but she appreciated the defense nonetheless. “Besides, this is just mindless speculation. It’s probably nothing.”

“It’s not _nothing_ ,” Joker said, only he didn’t have the chance to say more because the comm channel burst into life with her father’s voice. They all snapped to attention.

_“Joker! What’s our status report?”_

Joker tapped at the screen before answering, his words evenly measured, “About to clear the mass relay, Captain, and preparing stealth systems to engage. Everything looks solid so far.”

 _“Good,”_ said her father, after a slight pause. _“When we get to the Exodus Cluster, I want you to establish contact with the 2nd Frontier Division on Eden Prime and coordinate a landing zone. And tell Shepard to meet me in the comm room for a debriefing.”_

He was gone, then, and Shepard had to wonder how her father knew she’d be close enough for Joker to follow that order through.

“2nd Frontier Division?” repeated Alenko. “They guard the colony, right?”

“This makes no sense,” Joker sighed. The ship gave a jolt beneath them and suddenly the blues and whites of the mass effect corridor gave way to an inky blackness unlike any other, speckled with stars billions of trillions of light years away, yet only a short distance through the relays. “Also, Commander, your dad wants to see you in the comm room -”

“I heard,” Shepard said, amused despite herself. “He sounded angry.”

“What?”

She rolled her eyes at Joker for a second time. “The Captain - he sounded angry.”

“He always sounds like that when he’s talking to me,” Joker said, waving a hand.

Shepard was content to leave it like that, at his poor attempt at assurance (as if he had any right!) only for Alenko to speak up just as she turned to leave, with a quiet comment easily missed, “I can’t _possibly_ imagine why.”

Her laugh was easily masked over the noise of indignation from Joker, leaving her to make a silent and somewhat dignified exit. The CIC was the quietest it’d been since launching from Arcturus, which wasn’t much - it was Pressly who caught her eye, in the middle of an argument with Adams over the comms. Predictably, Nihlus was the sole topic of discussion. Past them, it was Chakwas and Jenkins - with the Doctor patching up a nasty scrape along Jenkins’ forearm.

He gave an awkward salute as she passed, no doubt still embarrassed from their earlier meeting, and Shepard gave a two-fingered one back, more relaxed than any Private truly deserved. She felt a bit bad over causing him so much distress, even if he did slightly deserve it. 

Don’t go around calling people a _butcher_ , then.

When Shepard entered the comms room, it was to a small - but significant - amount of confusion.

“Now, unless the last twenty-eight years of my life have been a lie, you are _not_ my father.”

Nihlus, to his credit, gave a polite chuckle at the joke. “Your father will be on his way soon enough. I’m glad you arrived first, in all honesty; we can talk.”

Shepard could admit that she hadn’t shared more than five minutes with the Spectre before now, and that was _all_ in the presence of others. A one-on-one wasn’t something she’d been expecting, but, again, a _Spectre_ hadn’t been something she was expecting, either.

“Do you have a particular topic in mind?” Shepard asked, nearing his side.

Nihlus indicated to the hologramatic screen laid out before him, one that Shepard had earlier ignored. It displayed an idyllic scene of a colony world, with clear skies and lucious green crops. “This world we’re going to, Eden Prime. I’d heard it’s quite beautiful.”

“They say it’s a paradise,” Shepard admitted, inspecting the still image. “But I’ve never been. Not exactly somewhere a marine goes.”

“Indeed,” Nihlus trilled. “But a paradise - serene, tranquil, _safe_. Eden Prime has become a symbol to your people, hasn’t it? Proof that, not only can humanity establish colonies, but also protect them.”

It wasn’t an open-ended question. It left Shepard more confused than ever, though she still scrounged up an answer, “I suppose so. Humanity is still young, with a lot left to learn. Eden Prime is our most successful colony yet, so it’s as much proof to the rest of the galaxy as it is to ourselves.”

“And yet…” Nihlus closed the display and the resulting darkness of the room took Shepard a few moments to acclimatise to. “It’s on the edges of your territory, hanging precariously between the Attican Traverse and the Terminus Systems. How safe is it _really_?”

Well, _that_ wasn’t a loaded question.

“Is there something specific you’re aiming at, here?” Shepard asked.

“Your people are still newcomers, Shepard, and the galaxy can be a dangerous place - is the Alliance truly ready for this?” Nihlus ran his eyes over her. “Are you?”

Shepard turned on the spot, staring at Nihlus whilst she did so. This felt like a personal judgement, something with _weight_ \- an answer that arrived, not in the form of words, but rather the principles she upheld, and how they would fare in the face of galactic society, good and bad.

Still, her mind returned to _why_ . Why was Nihlus here, asking her these questions, twisting and turning her expectations on their head? She was told it would be another routine mission - a Spectre asking for her readiness was anything _but_.

Her mind was so preoccupied that she almost let the slide of the door pass her by. Only it didn’t. She turned to find Captain Anderson casually strolling towards them. Or as casual as her father could manage, which wasn’t very.

“I think it’s about time we told the Commander what’s _really_ going on,” he said in greeting, leading Shepard’s eyes to narrow. He knew. He’d known the whole damn time and he’d _still_ -

“This mission is far more than a simple shakedown run,” Nihlus continued.

Shepard couldn’t quite hide her snort. “I already figured _that_ out. Something you wanna tell me, Captain?”

“We’re making a covert pick-up on Eden Prime,” Anderson sighed. “That’s why we needed the stealth systems operational.”

“No, no, no,” Shepard waved a hand. “That? _That’s_ what this is all about? With all due respect, _sir_ , I don’t buy it. And I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark by my own father, who asked me aboard as a personal favour.”

“This comes down from the top, Natalie,” he said, “Information on a strictly needs-to-know basis.”

“I _am_ needs-to-know!”

She was going to absolutely bottle Alenko’s face the next time she saw him. Or applaud him for being spot on the money for the bullshit excuse that’d been used.

There were other times to be angry, Shepard knew, so she released the tension in her back with a heavy sigh. If she kept the conversation going, she could leave. An endless bonus. “What’s the payload?”

“A team of diggers moved out of the colony to extend the monorail,” Nihlus sounded interested despite the utter banality of his words. “And in the process, they discovered ancient Prothean ruins - amongst them, an intact, functional beacon.”

“Functional? That must’ve survived… fifty thousand years. And it’s still functional?”

Anderson shrugged. “To a point. Our researchers are still trying to understand its controls. And, obviously, this goes beyond human interests. Hence why Nihlus is present.”

It made sense, if Shepard closed both eyes and hummed. “Okay. But he’s - clearly expecting trouble.”

“I’m always expecting trouble,” Nihlus corrected and, yeah, she scoffed at that. It sounded like a line out of a bad action flick featuring a suave turian and his big breasted asari damsel.

“There _is_ more, Nat,” Anderson said. There was a slight shading of his voice that pricked at her attention. It always foreshadowed a tidbit of bad news. Funny how it remained the same if he was her captain instead of her father. “Nihlus isn’t just here for the beacon - he’s here for you.”

Somehow, that had never entered into her wild speculations. Shady business, sure. Secret mission, yeah, she’ll buy it. But her?

“You invited me on-board because you thought I’d be a good fit,” Shepard said.

“And it’s true,” Anderson allowed, with a shrug. “You _would_ be a good fit… a great fit, even… with the Spectres.”

Spectres.

She looked to Nihlus, who did nothing to challenge the idea, and then back to her father, who was already wincing. He’d known. From the moment he’d stepped foot on Omega, from the moment she’d damn near killed him in that booth, he’d known why the Alliance wanted her back. It wasn’t to say goodbye, and it certainly wasn’t so she could _retire_ , it was so she could keep killing. Keep killing for the Alliance, for the Council, for _humanity_.

“The Alliance have been pushing this for a long time,” he tried to assure, taking a step forward, though she refused to meet his gaze. “Humanity wants a larger role in shaping interstellar policy, we want more say with the Council - the Spectre’s represent that. More power, authority, responsability. If they accept a human into their ranks, it shows how far the Alliance - how far _we’ve_ come.”

“And that’s me?” Shepard asked. Couldn’t quite believe the words even as they left her.

“I read the reports from Torfan as they came in,” said Nihlus. “A grim business, but you got the job done. And the Blitz, of course - a remarkably heroic feat, even if your name was left out of the honours list. The Council has had their eye on you for a long time. And so have I. That’s why I put your name forward as a candidate for the Spectres.”

That’s somehow harder to believe than the rest of it. “ _You_ put my name forward? Why?”

“Because I’m a turian?”

“No, because - I mean nothing to you,” Shepard shook her head, hand worrying at her brow. “I mean, if I _were_ turian, I’d understand it, but I’m - I’m just another random human.”

“I don’t care that you’re human, Shepard,” Nihlus corrected, somehow soft with it. “I care that you get the job done. I see the potential in your species, what you can offer to the galaxy - and you are, undoubtedly, the best of humanity.”

“I’m really not,” she assured him. “But I… don’t have a choice in this, do I.”

It wasn’t a question, but Anderson gave her the dignity of an answer nonetheless, “Humanity needs this, Natalie. We’re counting on you. Nihlus needs to see your skills for himself, so Eden Prime will be your first mission together. You’ll be in charge of the ground team, and you’ll run it as you always do. Secure the beacon and -”

The ship rocked beneath them. Nothing special for the ordinary vessel, but this was _Normandy_ , and she was piloted by Jeff Moreau - Shepard could admit to his skills if nothing else. And the rocking didn’t stop, forming into long rolls, leaving them to stagger themselves out in an attempt to remain standing. Shepard went for the door before her father or Nihlus did, though they reached the CIC at the same time. The ensigns and officers were strapping themselves in as the warning lights flashed - not under attack, but clearly dealing with _something_.

Alenko was out of his seat by the time they got to the bridge, leaning over Joker’s shoulder as the ship bounced beneath their feet. Shepard stood at Joker’s opposite side, peering at the scanners that showed -

“There are foreign ships in orbit,” Joker breathed out, “Tracking multiple engagements on Eden Prime’s surface - and no word from the 2nd Frontier Division. Comms are jammed for the whole damn planet.”

“The _whole_ planet?” Nihlus said. “That’s impossible.”

“Can you isolate where we’re supposed to be landing?” Shepard asked, not letting opportunity escape them. “We’ll land in the Mako if need be.”

“I - I don’t know,” Joker’s hands continued to pilot the ship as Alenko took the scans to one side, eyes roving over different geological patterns and whether Normandy could make a safe landing. “I don’t even know if I can make it to the planet at this rate - we’re in the middle of a nasty dogfight.”

And so they were, though it was heavily balanced on the attacker’s side - all firing on unarmed civilian ships. There were a few Alliance vessels, a poor match against the overwhelming force scaled against them.

“Who is leading the attack?” asked her father, pulling one of the top screens down to read the results. “These are - _no_ known signifiers or readings. They’re blank.”

“Not possible,” Nihlus repeated.

“Well, clearly it _is_ ,” Joker snapped. “Kaidan, do you have a landing zone?”

“Not really my job,” muttered Alenko, though he was ultimately triumphant, “Yeah, yeah, there’s a cliff face two klicks south of the - the recommended landing site. Fair warning, it’s at the heart of the battle down there.”

“The digsite,” said Shepard, before anyone else could. “They’re - after the beacon.”

“You don’t know that for certain,” Nihlus warned, even as Alenko and Joker shared glances.

“What else _could_ it be?” Shepard pointed out. “We discover a top secret Prothean beacon on the same colony that’s _randomly_ under attack? We need to suit up and get down there. Alenko, you're the head of the marine detail, yeah?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She could applaud his quick responses, too. “Jenkins and I are cleared for ground duty.”

“Then get yourselves both ready and be in the cargo hold in ten,” she ordered. Alenko didn’t bother to salute before running down the gangway and that, too, she liked. Time and place for salutes, and this was neither - she was expecting at least two off Jenkins before they hit planetside. “I’ll go with them, get myself ready for the assault. I’m leading, right?”

Nihlus nodded. “I’m simply there to observe, Commander. I’ll meet you and your men in the cargo hold.”

And then he was off, leaving Shepard alone with the two men in the whole galaxy that she _didn’t_ want to talk to, or think of, or even perceive on the same physical plane.

Anderson clapped a hand on her shoulder and said, “Be careful,” in the way that only a father could manage. Joker’s eyes flipped around the pilot’s seat, green against the blackness of space behind him, and they seemed to hold the same message, impossibly.

Shepard shook off her father’s hand and his concern, refusing to even acknowledge Joker’s, and followed Alenko and Nihlus’ path down the gangway. She’d be damned if this was fucked up. Maybe not for herself, but humanity - she could sacrifice an early retirement for the colonists of Eden Prime. She didn’t have a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who read the previous chapter, and this one too!! please let me know your thoughts!!


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